More, More, More (How do you like it, how do you like it?)

Wow, two posts in one day. Either I have absolutely nothing intriguing to keep me busy at work or I have gone CRAZY FOR BLOGGING! (You guess!)

I just found this article about you know what, chick-lit is bad, courtesy of Bookslut. I was compelled to blog up a response.

It's my humble opinion (which is on the loose today, isn't it?) that the reputation chick-lit has garnered for itself is what's hurting writers--be those writers "literary" or other. I say this as a chick-lit writer who was relieved of her publishing contract due to my books not being chick-littish enough and also because if I were a more well-known writer, I'd be known automatically as a chick-lit writer because Love Like That was published under the screaming pink banner of chick-lit so that, naturally, categorizes it as a chick-lit novel. There, has, however, been some dispute as to whether Love Like That is really a chick-lit novel...which I tend to think has been somewhat harmful to Love Like That, and not because I would like to be known as a "literary" writer but because "literary" readers automatically shy away from chick-lit and chick-lit readers are prone to shy away from novels that have been branded as chick-lit, yet contain such vile, filthy and supposedly immoral practices as one would find within the pages of Love Like That.

But is it...or isn't it?

I could write a whole litany of reasons why it is or isn't...but I don't feel like it. (I will change my mind about that below.) This post is not in defense of chick-lit or myself being labeled as a chick-lit writer. (I will also take this statement back, below.) This post is about how annoying and embarrassing and upsetting this utterly retarded argument can be...and especially because certain chick-lit books are what unfortunately define the genre for all others and the opinions of certain chick-lit authors are what seem to represent the minds of all others.

Which isn't true, by the way. It's just unfortunate that it's taken that way. See below:


The only issue here is the one that the chick literati never address but instead try to obfuscate with the red herrings of feminism and elitism, which is that their writing is hackneyed and boring and bad. Point out to a chick-lit author that her writing is inferior and formulaic, and she will call you a vengeful, misogynistic stone-thrower.

Sometimes, this is absolutely true. It's what most bothers me about being grouped in with the chick-lit shuffle. I would never be so bold as to cry tyranny that Love Like That or any book like it hasn't been reviewed by the NYT. Nor do I claim to be a feminist or anything even close to it. I don't think my chick-lit writing's inferior, but I don't compare it to classic literature or modern greats, either. If someone dislikes Love Like That, I find it's usually based on several factors--the raw characters, the language, the rampant use of drugs and alcohol without tying either to a painful addiction or a sad childhood, the cheating, etc.--none of which lead back to a disgruntled reader being a vengeful, mysogynistic stone-thrower. Formulaic, maybe--Dalton does talk about what she wears and inserts designer labels, the story does revolve mostly around her troubles with boys and men, and she does dislike her job and her revolting ladyboss...but realistically, what urban, American woman at the age of 25 doesn't experience these things?

From the article, again...

It’s because the market is saturated by bad writers claiming to rep for all women, crowding the bookshelves, making sure their one marginal, vapid story is produced ten million times over, like some pretty pink version of hell.

Again, this sort of resonates--especially the first part of it. Not saying all the most successful chick-lit writers are bad writers, but as a chick-lit writer, I cringe when certain other chick-lit writers go on the crusade and nearly laud the assumption that we ALL share the same opinions. Especially when I, as a reader, disliked their books immensely. I won't name them because God forbid someone important stumble upon this blog and immediately bar me a sister-hater and an asshole for not liking all the most beloved chick-lit faves. Some of them, I couldn't even read past the first 20 pages. Some of them made me want to start fires.

So maybe chick-lit has made it all a little more challenging for non-chick-lit writers...but another way of looking at it is, chick-lit has also made it that much more difficult for chick-lit writers who don't exactly fit in with the reigning chick-lit regime.

By the industry standards, I write chick-lit. It can't be disputed. I write about young women who have romantic issues and live in big cities, experience frustration at work and love Louis Vuitton bags. However...it can be disputed that I don't really write chick-lit because some of the elements my books contain don't exactly speak to chick-lit readers. The men in my books are rarely dreamy, usually more like nightmares. The women in my books drink heavily, smoke, have mouths that would make Quentin Tarantino proud and engage in questionable sexual practices. I make cultural references that probably make a lot of readers wonder what the hell I'm talking about--such as, Jeremy likening his and Doll's relationship to Sid & Nancy and the characters in Only the Lucky being heavily into UFC. Some would say, that's me not being able to relate to my audience and therefore not being a chick-lit writer.

All the same...I write chick-lit. And so do a lot of other people. Some of it is truly awful. Some of it is pure entertainment. Where my chick-lit writing falls, so it does. Some people love it, and others choose to think of it as fluff, trash or a total waste of paper. So be it. I was the one who chose to put it out there.

Someday, when I hopefully don't have to waste myself on a paying career from dawn to dusk, I will probably get around to writing novels with a mainstream appeal. But until then, should I be: A) crucified for giving my characters the purses I, myself, wish I could afford, or B) considered a fucking moron because I would consider it a success if even just a handful of young women out there pick up a book I wrote and are pleased to find a little bit of themselves within its pages, while on a train, a plane, a treadmill or a strip of sandy seashore?

Should any of us?

Now it does sound like I'm posting in defense of chick-lit and myself as a chick-lit writer, so maybe that actually is what this post is about. Maybe I'm just very exhausted of having to make excuses for the kind of writing I do...or maybe I'm just very upset that because four or five books out there have virtually defined the genre, the rest of us are totally fucked.

I guess what I'm getting at, truly, is that I just wish ALL chick-lit writers didn't have to be lumped together as one high-and-mighty, indignant, literarily-challenged feminist who thinks she's saving the world by writing about many of the things that most (if not all) women love, hate, experience and think about at least a few times in their lives.

Some of us just like to spend our free time writing our silly little books, I guess.

Funny mocking of celebs and MHO

I've spent the last two days shamelessly laughing at the absolute hilarity of these two sites, galleryoftheabsurd.com and gofugyourself.com, and absolutely cannot get enough. Especially amusing are the artistic renderings of Paris Hilton and Britney Spears on the gallery (along with captions so scathingly right on it's uncanny) and the posts "from" Britney and K-Fed on go fug. This shit is pure genius. I only wish I didn't discover it a little sooner.

Even more funny, the hostile, angry, poorly spelled viewer/reader comments. "Leeve the Britsteer alonne! Your juste jeless!", "How daire yu make the funn of Brad Pitt? Hes a GRATE fother!!!", etc., etc. I will be the first to admit I read Star and US Weekly, among others, more often than I read the news (sorry Dad), but that's just because the news is depressing and bleak most times (thanks to the media frenzy surrounding that JonBenet wannabe killer sick freak I now know more about the horror that is pedophilia than I ever hoped to know) and celeb reporting is just comical. That said, it's too bad that so many people (and usually ignorant people, at that) can't see the humor in a society so truly obsessed by celeb culture, and furthermore the humor in making fun of people who have made it their lifelong ambition to stand in front of a camera and then scream about not having any privacy as soon as cameras abound. You cease to be "like a normal person" once you become a celeb, that is what is meant by the word celebrity. (Which I of course know because I am a FAMOUS writer!)

I guess what I'm getting at is my feeling that people need to lighten up. It seems like people get so upset so easily these days, then use posting as the vehicle for their illogical, not to mention grammatically incomprehensible ranting. Sometimes I read the message boards on IMDB just to remind myself to be thankful that I have a brain. Then I get sad because people who seemingly don't have brains at all are still allowed to use computers. If you're not supposed to operate heavy machinery under the influence of alcohol, which makes you dumb, then why should you be allowed to use sophisticated machinery under the influence of your own stupidity?

My thoughts on an otherwise dull day. (As I write about the senselessness of ranting on the Internet and then, you know, rant on the Internet...)

I apologize for being such a bad blogger of late. It's just that I don't really have anything in particular I feel like posting about. And, I highly doubt you want to know even more about my aviation phobia, the local insect population, my love of Mexican food and the frustrations of my writing "career". Maybe you do. Or maybe I should create an imaginary child to blog adorable tales about? Maybe I'll just blog about buying a blender, cleaning my apartment, doing laundry, emptying my fridge of old produce, being hot when I go outside and doing virtually nothing at work today. That's what it's really all about.

This whole This is Not Chick Lit vs. This is Chick Lit debate is the virtual embodiment of everything I dislike about being female. Why are we all so worried about what other people are doing? Just write your goddamn books--whatever category they happen to fall under or be classified within--and be grateful that you're a) blessed enough to know how to write and furthermore live in a country that allows you to write about whatever you want, and b) blessed enough so that someone actually thinks you're talented enough to have your writing published. Most people never get that lucky!!!

That's about it for the moment. Because who's going to Champions on Ice right now?

I'M GOING TO CHAMPIONS ON ICE RIGHT NOW!!!

One year after it was supposed to be published, Only the Lucky is finished.

Now that's what I call progress.

Mel

I have been shamelessly entertained by this.

Random Bits and Pieces

I don't like the word snarky. I think this is an unflattering word, vastly overused by women who subscribe to the "bitchy is in so let's all embrace this shit" philosophy. I have always been bitchy. I would really just like to remain bitchy, not snarky. (P.S. Ask most women outside of major--ahem, cough, LA and NYC--metropolitan areas what snarky means and they wouldn't have a clue.)

I am currently reading a book titled Fiona Range--one of those books I bought several years back when I had the kind of cash to blow on 6-7 books at a time in the Century City Brentano's--none of which I would get around to reading for several years--and amazingly, delightfully, I actually want to keep reading it. Too bad it's in my car right now and there are cockroaches and crickets claiming the sidewalk between my apartment and my parking lot...not to mention it's late and I have no business doing anything other than going to bed as soon as I finish this very compelling blog entry.

Right now iTunes is playing "New York State of Mind." What's up next, the Sundays' "God Made Me" and No Doubt's cover of "It's My Life." (Definitely one of my top ten songs of all time, this version.)

Chardonnay is good. But not Black Swan's version...because getting the cork out of there takes more skill than one has to offer when all they're really craving is a cold goblet of white wine.

Tonight I took a friend to the bus station. Now I know how to get to Fremont Street from my apartment. It is said the Las Vegas Club has the best "21" odds in Las Vegas. Maybe I should check it out?

Hey, starting this month, paying back what I borrowed to fund my education will be costing another $40 a month. Again, maybe I should check out those odds at the Las Vegas Club?